Desertion of Reason
by viggen
Summary: An Asha'man in the throes of the illness from the Taint struggles against all odds to return home to his loved ones before his last hour. Part five of five loaded.
1. Reason

This one was very difficult, but I had to write it. I hope I will be back to "Youngest Channeler" soon. Thanks for reading. "Wheel of Time" is the property of Robert Jordan and those who represent him.

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**Desertion of Reason**

by viggen**  
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Reason

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He struggled against _saidin's_ reeling iceflow, holding fast to the razor's edge between burning out his ability and losing his grasp on the one power. The ichor from the Taint slid along the surging cold in an oil slick just thick enough to make him ill. With every sensation heightened and every color more vivid, holding _saidin_ was like walking along the sky and playing tag with the moon, until he got bowled over by the backwash of the Taint when he let the power go. Until recently, the brisk, bracing pleasure had been ample incentive to keep him coming back for more despite the corruption mixed in just steeply enough to be a reminder. When the sickness began to worsen, he wished he could give it all up, but found he could hold off from touching the source no longer than a few hours before he became willing to risk losing his lunch just to feel it again.

Leaning back against the loosely stacked bricks, Lenovire counted the moments. He maintained a hold on _saidin_ and breathed, squeezed his eyes closed and hoped desperately against another fit. He could sometimes keep them at bay if he focused, but his control had become more tenuous since Dumai's Wells. Despite the illness, he needed to keep quiet. If a fit overwhelmed him here, he would not be able to remain still and he could ill afford to give himself away with an attack of shaking--or worse. He fled the Black Tower when the sickness began to make itself felt so that he could avoid the inevitable culling when his masters realized how unstable he had become. Lenovire was not ready to lie down and die, especially not by poison from a stranger. He had carefully considered his desertion and had dodged parties of channeling men to come this far.

He clenched the glass vial in his pocket. Not just now.

"You should slow down, Lenovire," a soft voice near his shoulder said.

He waved it away. He refused to yield just yet. Worried to have given himself away, he pressed himself more solidly against the wall and held his breath until he picked out the tiny sounds he had been anticipating.

A dim shadow migrated up a nearby stone wall half collapsed with age. Streaks of sunlight cupped the dark edges of the silhouette. Ivy crunched underfoot. Lenovire swallowed hard. The M'Hael had been correct that one witch alone could be stripped naked and spanked, but almost any three together could do the stripping and spanking for someone of Lenovire's strength. The weirdness of their channeling still frightened him with its absence, though the M'Hael insisted that a clever man could feel it out with patience. Their ability left an itch when they used it, but not nearly as apparent as when another man spun out a weave. A second shadow moved near the first and crept over the tufts of grass between broken pieces of debris. Trying to keep his breathing level in the icy crisp focus of the Void, he forced himself to wait. If nothing else, the owners of those shadows were frighteningly patient. Lenovire did not like being the fox with these women as the hounds. As a rule, women were not supposed to do the chasing.

He heard a whispered conference by his power enhanced ears, though too low for him to discern the words. They knew he was somewhere near and were not about to give up. How they were managing to track him, Lenovire did not know, but coming upon them had been happenstance. When he saw the ageless faces, he bolted away in forlorn hope that they had not seen his black tunic. If only the one in the red dress had not noticed him. After his journey across Andor, his destination was finally close and he took full advantage of his knowledge to try to hide in these lands. But they came after him anyway. He wished that he had been smart enough to ditch his Black Tower uniform a long time ago. Of course, he had been focused on other matters at the time, like keeping his illness contained.

"That way," he heard the whisper, "that way for certain."

"Listen for him."

He thought those voices were not imagined, but he could never entirely tell anymore.

Another crackle of feet in brush and the shadow moved further along the wall. Lenovire squinted his eyes. The shadow smiled an evil grin and actually seemed to snake toward him against the direction of the light, dancing from stone to stone as it reached out. Lenovire squeezed his eyelids closed and shook his head sharply. Sometimes, the visions made him want to cry out in fear. He managed to hold fast to the power despite the momentary confusion. When he opened his eyes again, the shadow had flicked back to where if truly fell. This aspect of the illness continued to catch him by surprise and it had grown worse as he got closer to home.

The woman who cast the shadow crept across the gap between two ruined walls, visible only for an instant. Lenovire kept stalk still, back pressed against the rock, barely daring to breathe. If the witches found him now, they would drag him off without an afterthought. All he wanted was to see Ardri one last time before he met his fate.

When the witch who crossed the gap disappeared from view, Lenovire took a deep breath and began to edge away along the wall. He remembered playing in this ruin as a child, remembered racing down these broken corridors pretending to vanquish Trollocs or Forsaken. He remembered hiding from Hoften or his younger brother. A stick propped against one broken wall here had been a lance used to fend off an onslaught of pretend Aiel--nothing like fighting them for real and far less like shredding them with the one power. More clearly, he remembered Lenala playing here with her friends when she was still just a little girl and remembered Ardri sending him to find the child when she failed to return home on time for an evening meal. Lenovire had never expected to use these ruins to hide from someone who actually wanted to do him harm.

"Careful," he heard one woman telling another in a hushed voice, "the edge by the broken wall goes down quite a way." He had not heard that woman speaking yet. Something about that voice tickled his memory, though he did not know whether the sense of remembrance had been installed by the cruel hand of the illness or not. Were they three, or four? Had he missed one?

Ducking to stay in the shadows when he finally could go no farther without pushing away from the wall, Lenovire picked his path carefully to keep atop large pieces of stone. If he could hear the witches by what they stepped on, they might also hear him. The time he spent at the Black Tower, even at his age, made him mindful of slips in combat. In spite of the nearly one-sided blood bath at Dumai's Wells, he had seen a friend felled by an errant bowshot and knew better than to trust Lady Luck not to favor the other side when the dice hit the table. Many skills a farmer had not needed became his in that Tower among the channeling men. One stone shifted precariously beneath his foot and forced him to test his next steps to be certain they were solid.

"We mean to help you Lenovire," a voice whispered at his shoulder. A shadow between the rocks at his feet smiled up at him, toothy, hungry. The eyes always stared in through holes of darkness, always watched him. They would have him eventually.

Lenovire ignored it. He vowed not to stumble.

"Over that way," one woman called another, not bothering to mask herself, "freshly turned stones here!" The others did not answer, but they were somewhere nearby.

"They mean to help you, Lenovire," that whisper buzzed like a biteme by his ear.

Lenovire attempted to move more quickly, certain one woman or another might stumble onto him at any second. So far, at least, the size of these ruins was to his benefit. He scurried over a wrecked column in a quick jaunt across open ground and flattened himself against a shadowed wall. His heart hammered in his ears and his equilibrium struggled to keep pace. As long as he held _saidin_, the euphoria of the power helped mask some of the worst effects of the illness, even if it did not stave off the queerest.

"What will you do if I let them know you're here?" the whisper needled him, moving around his head. An eye looked through a dark crack in a nearby wall.

Lenovire swallowed hard. He knew It only wanted his acknowledgement. As long as he did not fall down in a fit, this effect could not touch him. He had spoken to It before and found that It could spout some disturbingly accurate insight. If It resided only in his mind, he did not think that it could raise his pursuers. But, he could not deny that tiny grain of doubt. He sneaked down the broken corridor as much to put distance between himself and the eye in the crack as from the witches hunting around in his wake.

"What will you do if they find you?" It asked. "Will you try to hit them with a weave of Earth and Fire? They won't hesitate to cut you off from the source if they're linked. The witches do that, you know?" A coil of shadow slithered across a rock at his feet.

Blinking his eyes and trying not to see it, Lenovire took a turn through a break in the ancient wall and glanced quickly either direction to see that no women were there to notice him. He bit his lip when a rock disturbed by one step clattered, but skulked as quickly onward as possible. At least the witches could not feel his death grip on the _saidin_, though nature hid almost as much about their abilities from him. If he could take them one at a time, maybe there would be a chance. It would be a terrible gamble.

He shook his head.

Another man might try it. A month ago, Lenovire might have tried it. But, all he wanted now was to get on his way as soon as possible. If he did not get there soon, it would be too late. He already felt as if he were at the very edge. If he tried to fight these witches, they would surely trap him. He staggered on in indecision. If he did not stand, they would trap him--if he did, they would still trap him.

Gasping for breath, he crab-walked beneath what might once have been a window. His Head spun. He wanted to vomit. The quenching cold of _saidin_ was not cold or quenching enough.

"Come now, Lenovire," the whisper followed him. "Do you really think you can hide for much longer? You will have to do something when they find you."

"I don't have to do anything," Lenovire grunted, then clapped a hand over his mouth.

"This way!" someone called out behind him, "I heard him this way!"

"You see?" It murmured, "As easy as that. What do you plan now?"

Cursing himself for giving in to the taunt, Lenovire rushed forward as quickly as he could. The thought of using _saidin_ on them became ever more tantalizing. Unlike Aes Sedai, he had no constraints preventing him from using his one truly potent weapon against this enemy. But, if he tried to hurt them with the power, they would have free license to fight back. Of course, since he was a channeling man, there was always the chance they would automatically feel threatened enough to be able to do him harm without his trying to fight. Another shadow squirmed and moved and Lenovire did his best to hurry past it. His face was slick with sweat.

Two female voices spoke behind him. They were getting closer.

Lenovire slipped around a corner and ducked back into shadow. He could barely contain it.

"Someone came through here recently," a woman very close said, her feet barely making the noises Lenovire had been expecting. "The other two linked?"

"What sort of question is that?" a second woman said.

They passed so close by the corner behind which Lenovire hid that he could hear the rustle of their dresses and could smell a fragrance one of them wore. A scent like the lavender jasmine Lenala once loved.

Lenovire's left hand abruptly began to shake, twitching and flicking with uncontrollable jolts. He tucked the offending limb against his chest and held it there. Eyes and tendrils of shadow caressed at him where he hid, like a thousand cockroaches scurrying around his feet and boldly crawling on his legs.

"There, there, Lenovire," the toothy mouth by his ear hissed, "we are here for you."

"Get away from me," Lenovire breathed back, more loudly than could possibly be safe. He readied a weave of Fire and Earth, prepared to flick out on a moment's notice. This weave saw much use at Dumai...

"Did you hear?" one of the women said.

It breathed on his shoulders, touching his back gently with the edges of claws and teeth and tongues. He did his best not to move even with the rapacious sensations venturing all over him. His hand would not stop trembling.

"They know you're near," It told him. "You should kill them while you have the chance."

He kept silent. He needed to run for home; he did not know if he could hold out much longer. The illness was going to take him, maybe in a few minutes, maybe in a few hours, but today would be his last. Memories of Ardri's face floated like a beacon in his mind. Beyond that one need, if channeling men finally tracked him down to kill and hang in the Traitor's Tree or if channeling women decided to Gentle him, he did not care.

As they always seemed to meander near the surface of his mind, those haunting recollections of Dumai's Wells began again to visit him. How easy it had been. Aiel after Aiel, veiled and ready to fight, but they all came apart as naturally as breathing. Just a relative few of his brothers and they had decimated the enemy. He remembered the lofty feelings of power and superiority associated with transforming the opposing army into a fleshy tatter strewn across the field. When the fearsome Aiel broke and fled like a rabble of children, he remembered thinking he had finally attained his manhood, despite all the years married to his wife and despite the adult daughter he loved. That sensation had been so intoxicating, like returning to youth.

Lenovire breathed hard. A stream of spittle escaped the corner of his mouth and he jerked to wipe it away. It would be so easy. Even a man who did not channel _saidin_ strongly could kill and kill and kill.

He also thought about how all those ruined bodies were once some proud father's child and he quailed. What would he do if Lenala had been a Maiden of the Spear and fallen so easily to some channeling man?

_Saidin_ fluttered and almost escaped his grasp. He seized it harder, hanging on for dear life and filled himself to the brink. The Taint nearly brought up that bilious retch. Just a moment of doubt...

"I think I heard..."

Lenovire snapped out with the power and the ancient wall exploded with a thunder crack. Someone screamed. Shadows nipping, toying at his ankles, he ran for all he was worth.

He had to get home.

Lightning came down at him in sheets, white arches cracking into walls and unleashing showers of fractured stone. He threw his own weaves back blindly, blasting apart rock surfaces and exploding the ground in his wake as he ran. He needed to get away. He needed to get away.

Explosions from the lightning stretched fingers out almost lazily to catch him, smiling teeth of It unleashed into the world whether anyone could stop It or not. Lenovire ducked through jaws that emerged from the haze, ducked past hands and greedy tendrils.

"Don't be that way, Lenovire," It sighed, somehow always with him even though he ran with everything he had. "There will be no hurt, Lenovire. You will be free."

Lightning narrowly missed him as he used the weave of Fire and Earth to punch a hole through the last wall of the ruin between himself and open ground. His pursuers were having problems seeing exactly where to land their thunder strokes through the billowing clouds of dust lifted into the air by the violent channeling exchange.

"There!"

As he emerged from the ruin into open grass, a careening ball of Fire came sizzling toward him from the side. In surprise, he tripped and fell on his face, but struck out with the Earth-Fire weave to send an explosive fountain of stone up into the path of the fireball. Flames burst everywhere in a fog of orange that soaked into grass and trees alike. Flying rocks and meandering orbs of flame sprinkled down over everything. Shaken, Lenovire had enough mind to use a weave of Fire himself to shed the new flames chewing at his clothing--the tongues of fire which had settled on him ran off of his body harmlessly onto the ground around him when he stood back up on quivering feet.

The woman who loosed the first fireball attacked with a second, but Lenovire was already running. He was not good with Air, but a simple weave foiled her aim, diverting her attack off harmlessly into the sky. Panting hard as he ran for dear life, he felt the Spirit weave just soon enough to keep it from cutting him off from the source; at least he understood how to protect himself from that. Another two witches linked to that woman could have cut him off, but he did not wait around to give them the chance to group.

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Continued in Chapter 2


	2. Perspective

Perspective

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Lenala wished she were not so alone. She wished she had brought a warder or another Aes Sedai to help face this. She had not wanted to take another warder so soon after Othidin was killed, but his absence now made itself an acute vacancy. On her own, this was something that nearly exceeded her. She was just a Gray and three years to the shawl. She lived to travel between courts to speak to royalty, lived to wear a fine dress and put on the stoic Aes Sedai face for whomever the Tower required. To have so many agonies piled on top of one another pushed her almost as far as the tests ever had. But, an Aes Sedai is serenity.

She had been proud as an envoy. If only she knew who she was supposed to be an envoy for: the fracture of the White Tower had wounded her almost as much as losing her warder during the aftermath. Two Amyrlin Seats now wore the stoll and Lenala did not wish to stand against either! And so she was one woman alone, a weak Gray whose betters were at each other's throats. With stories of the Dragon Reborn raging his way across the land, of Aiel come over the Dragon Wall and of every enclave up in arms against every other, one small simple Gray with ambiguous authority, one sister three years to the shawl, meant almost nothing. It left Lenala to do what she could on a scale where her strengths made a difference. After great deliberation, she came home to her family's village for the first time in years and had been working to keep the few small surrounding settlements at peace with one another in a world that no longer seemed care about protecting the simple or the poor. What Lenala wanted most was for the little she held precious not to break in the Breaking that seemed so imminent.

The story of the man in the black coat seen on the road headed north from Baerlon had sent a tremor of fear rippling through the community. Keeping all expression from her face, Lenala had hoped a desperate hope that the Asha'man would pass this place by; they had already been around recruiting and no one wanted to see anyone else dragged away. When she arrived home, it broke her heart to learn from her mother that her father had been among those forcibly recruited to the Black Tower. Her own father.

She had kept her face flat, kept her eyes cool and unflinching, but felt the thrill of horror. Her father taken by the Asha'man.

She had not wanted to face _this_ Asha'man. But, what else could she do? Even though many in the community knew her as a child, they now saw her wearing the shawl and they treated her as someone different. She was Aes Sedai, no matter how young, no matter how lost, no matter how alone. She kept her face unaffected. She stood tall. She wore the Tower as she would for a king. Aes Sedai are serenity. Inside lurked something else, but she was becoming ever more schooled at hiding it.

Lenala had been surprised by the bedraggled man in the black coat. She had not seen an Asha'man before, despite hearing the rumors of the Dragon's cadre of killers. The man in the black coat looked so ill-kept and unhealthy, his stringy gray hair so wild, that he seemed anything but a living weapon. His body and face were so thin that he may not have eaten soundly in weeks. His eyes were hollow, frightened. When she and Hoften met him on the road, he scampered away like a panicked rabbit before they could get close. Lenala thought they might be able to talk him down; Lenala always hoped she could talk someone down. Most of the time she could--Grays knew how to talk.

"Aes Sedai?!" Hoften helped her to her feet from where she had taken shelter. He had been optimistic before, but reeked of fear after witnessing the channeling fight.

Lenala breathed in and dusted off her dress, smoothing her face and steadying her voice. She did not feel at all steady. "This man is lost." A Red knew the effects of the Taint. A Gray did not want to know about the Taint, but could not question the evidence right before her eyes.

The old ruin, old before she had been young, was now truly a ruin. The Asha'man had gone stark wild with his power, cracking apart old walls, knocking stones flat in the manner only a male channeler possibly could. How could one man be so destructive? Had it been like this during the Breaking of the World? Fires from Lenala's attempt to distract and cut the man off were spreading out and steadily inflating. The Asha'man had disappeared back into the trees of the grove, away from the road. Was he headed toward the village? He had been just an old man! How could a weak old man wreck such destruction? Would he harm people in town?

"What should we do? Aes Sedai, what should we do? He's running already. Blood and ashes! He did not even notice what you did!" Hoften said. As a little girl, Hoften and his sons had spent almost as much time on her family's front porch as Lenala had. He still struggled with her new title, but with less awe and fear than other villagers. To him, this Aes Sedai was a grown version of a little niece and the title instantly conferred his respect.

Lenala was forced to think more quickly than she might have wished. Responsibility was becoming more natural, "We have to protect the village. That man is dangerous." Relaxing herself, she embraced _saidar_. Air was one of her strengths and the bubble weave she learned as an Accepted snuffed out most of the flame swelling across the grass and up a few nearby trees. If she were stronger with Fire, she might have handled the blaze directly, but that was not her forte. A Green sister would have been better suited to this than a Gray who belonged resplendent in gems, jousting with words instead of weaves. "Once things have calmed, we will need a few people here to make certain all the small fires are out--but, everyone must reach safety first! I..." she hesitated, "I must see to this man. There may be little any of you can do."

"Aes Sedai, I can't leave you to face this alone."

"Your concern is appreciated," Lenala touched his shoulder, meeting his eye. "But he can kill as easily as breathe and he seems to be lost to himself. He went through the grove, so it might slow him somewhat. We need to run back along the road and get to town ahead of him. I will block him as he leaves the grove, you will get everyone out of the village behind me."

A rolling crack like thunder sounded from the grove. Dust flew and a tree tipped, sending birds squawking into the sky. The Asha'man was still headed toward the village and he was making no secret of his power.

Hoften's face went white and he startled in fear. "Blood and Ashes!"

Lenala felt the same thrill, but refused to buckle to it. She shoved the frozen Hoften into motion and started to run herself, hiking up her dress and forgetting all modesty, "Quickly, quickly! We have no time to waste!"

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Continued in Chapter 3


	3. Insanity

Insanity

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The Aiel were here!

How did the Aiel get here?

Lenovire breathed hard, panted.

Trunks of trees in the grove stretched up away from the broken forest floor. Branches laced uncountable shadows together that flicked and frolicked under a gentle breeze. Old wood groaned softly. The pine scent stirred memories from the beginnings of life. Men in gray and brown _cadin'sor_ with their _shoufa_ pulled only to reveal their green eyes stole from hiding, their bull-hide bucklers and little bows at ready, their spears held with menace.

"Lenovire," the shadows of the trees reached and clasped. A nearby trunk breathed and a knot seemed to open to reveal teeth.

Lenovire did not know how he could fight the Aiel, stave off the ten Aes Sedai searching for him and keep the illness at bay all at the same time. He felt so exhausted. With _saidin_ ice sloshing in his every vein, he wove Fire and Earth and attacked. He blasted the breathing tree into a cloud of flying debris and cut through two poised men with a single strike. The shards of exploded wood seemed to contain an unnatural number of thick, white eyeless maggots.

He ran. If the Aiel got to Ardri before he did, he would never forgive himself. Why weren't the Aes Sedai fighting them off? Aes Sedai cooperated against Aiel the last time, didn't they? Dumai's Wells had been so chaotic that he could not clearly remember anymore. He just remembered killing with the power over and over.

"Light-blinded fools!" He coughed raggedly. The epithet felt weak, but it gave him reason to keep moving.

"Don't be profane," It told him from the twisting shadows of a particularly thick tree. "You knew this would happen."

"I will get to Ardri first," Lenovire shouted with as much defiance as he could muster.

It chuckled, "Run as you will, how can you know that they don't have her already?"

Fire and Earth together wrenched apart the roots of the huge tree and sent the trunk tumbling down the hill with a profound crash, "I will cut you out! You will not have her!" Lenovire assured It. He sent another emergent Aiel to the grave in a bloody blast which blew fragments of brush and grass everywhere.

"You have not been here for so very long," It reminded him, chasing him through the dusty gloom, "You can't know if she still needs you."

"Blood and ashes, this is my Ardri you scum!" Lenovire bellowed at the forest as he continued to run. "She knows me! She is waiting!"

"How long has it been?"

Another Aiel died miserably when Lenovire spotted him and another tree hit the ground in the process.

Which way was the village again? The light was strange here and a nearby clearing did not look familiar to him. When they were children, he and Hoften built a lean-to fort in a clearing much like this one, but the trees all looked so different. Nothing seemed as it should be. The stony face of a short lip of hill yawned open with jagged teeth into something other than a cave. Lenovire struck at that too, yanking out the hole from the ground with a violent twist that landed uprooted trees everywhere. He killed another Aiel in the process, splattering the man with a fit of malice.

"They may have her already," the whisper standing behind his head reminded him.

Stumbling, Lenovire struggled to keep on. What time of the day was it? He could not remember the forest grove looking like this. He did not think the village was so far away, but he had not yet found it. He fought his way through, searching and killing, struggling to keep the illusions from becoming more dominant. He sometimes thought he heard laughter. Maybe the Aes Sedai were finally taking on the Aiel. No lightning had fallen for quite some while.

A lighter patch reached through the trees. Lenovire fought toward it, toward laughter he was certain he was hearing. The edge of the forest grove: it had to be! The village would be close, unless he somehow got himself turned around. He knew that tree there; it had been smaller once, but he remembered Lenala climbing it high enough as a girl to get stuck.

The forest had been pushed back around the village in a long ago effort to form a fire-break. Familiar cottages sat within the vale. The place he shared with Ardri for years, inherited from his father, stood over beyond the village green.

Aiel were in the streets. They were here already!

"NO!" Lenovire screamed, summoning more _saidin_, if that were possible.

As he emerged from the trees, the Aes Sedai met him.

She seemed young and somehow cruel, her face barely ageless, but haughty and practiced at turning up her nose. Lenovire felt the weave closing on his connection to _saidin_ almost as soon as he saw the woman.

"...I have to stop you," Lenovire thought she said. Something in her voice stirred a memory in him, but he simply couldn't quite place it.

Were the Aiel laughing?

That this woman could still be after him with the Aiel pillaging the town at her back, taking their fifth, or whatever they called it, made him furious, "Why aren't you stopping them!" he shouted.

He wove Spirit and managed barely to protect himself from her Shield by threatening her connection to the power. Finding her link to _saidar_ proved a clumsy challenge, but the mere threat got her attention. She released the Shield just quickly enough to protect herself. The feint lasted only an instant before she recovered and redoubled her efforts. She was not that strong, but neither was he. Lenovire growled fiercely and tried to push her back. He lashed blindly against her with threads of Spirit, parrying each thrust that seized at him while slashing back at her.

He needed past this foolish girl; the Aiel were wrecking his home!

"How can you ignore them?!" Lenovire shouted at her in panic, "They kill 'wetlanders' like us! How can you be so blind?!"

The woman's face hardened further, her determination showing. She parried another of his attacks, her invisible threads of power slipping through a momentary hole in Lenovire's defenses that he then struggled to fill.

"The Aiel will kill my wife!" Lenovire pleaded with her, attempting to make her understand. As weakened as the illness had left him, she would gain the upper hand soon.

Where he could not go behind the Aes Sedai, a big Aiel dragged a woman out of the cooper's house, proceeded to force her flat in the dirt of the street and slit her throat ear to ear with the glinting tip of his spear. Lady al'Masteen, her hair grayer than Lenovire recalled, died emitting a rasp that might have been a scream were her throat left to her.

"No!!" Lenovire cried out.

"Your wife..." It teased, then laughed, "What if that happens to your wife?"

Lenovire twisted away from another of the channeling woman's Spirit thrusts. On what breath he could summon, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "ARDRI, RUN ARDRI!" If there was any hope of giving her that split moment of warning, he would do it. He would cut out his own heart for that spare instant.

The Aes Sedai's eyes changed suddenly. Her look of stolid determination evaporated and her Spirit onslaught slackened.

Surprised by the abrupt fumble, Lenovire forced her powers away. He did not know exactly how to perform the Shield weave, so settled instead for upending her by tilting the ground at her feet and swallowing her up to her neck in a tide of Earth. He had no time to see if he had left her senseless, but instead ran past her toward the beleaguered village. He thought about clipping off the Aes Sedai's delicate and annoying head, but some impulse kept him from it. Maybe it was the same impulse that kept him from using his lethal Fire and Earth weave upon her.

The Aiel standing over Lady al'Masteen's body was not so lucky. Lenovire popped the man in half with hardly an effort and turned his eye on the next. _Shoufa_ and soft shoes went opposite directions. The front of the nearby cottage came apart as if in echo.

"Don't do it!" someone cried desperately, "You don't know what you do!"

Lenovire attacked the next Aiel as forcibly as he did the first two. He hardly noticed the swaddled baby that hit the ground at his feet and spent a moment thinking just how odd that seemed.

"Don't do it, father!!" a shrill female voice behind him called.

The front doors of the cottages seemed to breathe and even the Aiel seemed to run away now. Where was Ardri? She had to be safe. She just had to be. Lenovire did not know what he would do if he came all this way just to find her gone, her throat slit by some black-veiled Aiel. The earth itself trembled with anticipation. Laughter still swirled around him, though he did not know who was laughing.

He ran.

Bands of shadow oozing along the street tripped him. The pathway seemed to curve left and right in frightening bends, trying to place houses in his way, but he used the power to clear his path. Earth and Fire together moved most walls as easily as breath.

He had to get to his family's cottage. It was just ahead. So close.

Two Aiel were at the door to the cottage, their veils in place and their weapons at ready.

"NO!!" Lenovire screamed, hoping to keep them from going in.

Both Aiel turned fractionally to see him coming.

"Lenovire?" the big, bulky man said.

Lenovire struck his head off with the Fire and Earth weave and imploded the front of the cottage in the same stroke. He just couldn't hold himself back any longer...

Screaming, the other Aiel fell backward drenched in blood and scrabbled away in the dust on hands and knees.

"NO!!!" someone was crying.

Turning toward the second Aiel, he tripped over something rolling free in the street. Were the shadows rising up again? Lenovire tried to bypass whatever it was, but ended up stumbling and falling.

The face of the man he had just felled looked at him in dead surprise from the loose head. He knew this man. How could that be? No _shoufa_ wrapped around his head, this was...

It couldn't be...

It was Hoften.

He knew the matted hair, streaked gray and white with age and remembered when it had been a chestnut brown. He remembered the face as a child and knew the smile lines almost as well as his own. He remembered playing stones with this man, playing swords when sticks were still just as good. He remembered this man giving him a gift the day he married Ardri.

Lenovire was laughing.

How could this be? How could this be Hoften?

"You see," It said to him, It's voice sounding so softly in his ears. It seemed to stand all around him, "Just as easy as that, Lenovire." It patted him comfortingly on his back, It's talons scratching through his shirt. There was no missing It's dry amusement and indifference.

"I... I... killed... Hoften?" he did not understand. Tears blurred his eyes. How could this be true? How?

The front end of his family cottage lay in tangled ruin, by his own hand. What if Ardri had been caught in that? He caused it. He had finally stepped across the line...

Houses warped and shifted, trembling on their foundations. Runnels of cloud flicked across the sky. Shadows came oozing from every seam, through every doorway, teeth, claws, things with many feet that drooled blood and mucous. Lenovire sat down in the dust stupidly.

It was time. The moment of the day had come. He had tried so hard to make it before the inevitable, but now he knew that even Ardri was at risk if he went any further, if not already dead by his own hand. He could not bear to look at ruins of his life-long residence, but could not tear his eyes away. He dug the phial from his coat pocket. Intended for Ardri's hands, it had been his last preparation when he left the Black Tower. How many times had he stopped in exhaustion to sit on the roadside during his trip across Andor and stared into the tiny glass phial that contained his ultimate escape.

"Father!" The Aes Sedai had managed to unearth herself and came running up the street with her grungy dress hiked up.

Her Shield weave slipped into place and the icebound ecstasy of _saidin_ winked out. Not that Lenovire cared any more. The world reeled around and he ended up lying on his back, vomiting hard through his mouth and nose. The illness overwhelmed him.

"By the creator and all that is Light, what have they done to you father?" The Aes Sedai was there, cradling him and lifting his head. She still sounded haughty, but more tired and sad.

Strange how the Aes Sedai now wore Lenala's face...

How could this be? The world pivoted in a reverberating mess of shadow and light. Lenala's face, the face of a laughing child, baby-fat burned off into the form of a distinguished woman. It was a face close to ageless, but also that of his daughter somehow.

"Where are the other Aes Sedai...? The Aiel..." Lenovire mumbled in disbelief. "Why is It laughing at me?"

"There are no other Aes Sedai. There are no Aiel. Oh father..." Lenala said to him, rocking him and cleaning the vomit away from his mouth with her ruined dress. "Father, no one's laughing."

"Is that you, Lenovire?" another voice asked, shaken and rough with tears.

The blood soaked Aiel managed to crawl from where she had fallen. No _shoufa_ around her head. No _cadin'sor_; only a farm wife's dress.

Ardri.

The name slipped out of his mouth without him realizing he had said it.

"Lenala, I don't understand what happened to Hoften. Why is there so much blood? Did Lenovire...?"

She looked as beautiful as the day they met. Her hair was still very black, despite the wrinkles on her face which had deepened and matured her without diminishing her. Her bright brown eyes remained as sharp. He fell in love with her all over again. He was speechless.

"The..." Lenala struggled for words, "...the Taint killed Hoften, mother. Father didn't know what he was doing."

"I killed him," Lenovire volunteered stupidly.

"No father," the Aes Sedai said in exaggerated gentleness.

"I- I don't understand," Ardri said, struggling not to break down into stunned tears. "I don't know what happened. It happened so quickly. I don't understand," She fingered Lenovire's poorly kept black jacket, "Is he really... one of... them?"

The shadows, the teeth and molesting touches pushed back away from Ardri's face. It yielded faintly and the laughter stopped for a moment. Lenovire breathed in and summoned his remaining strength. Without _saidin_ to brace him, the illness had robbed him of everything.

He raised his hand. She seemed to glow. He remembered the world of her. He remembered her shape with his every breath and dreamt of it. Her scent flooded his inhalation. The sorrow in her warm eyes was unmistakable. He stretched out, reaching toward the image he pursued the length of Andor. Her skin felt so smooth to the backs of his calloused fingers. Her tears were wet on his knuckles. Her careworn hands danced up to clasp his fingers.

Lenovire lifted the glass phial and gently slipped it into her grasp, "Ardri, I'm sorry. I have to go now."

"I don't understand," she said again, crying. She understood. He knew she understood. They had been together an eternity and made this darling daughter of his; he knew she understood.

He drew her down for that final kiss. Her lips seemed as soft as they ever had, from their wedding day and night. From every day since, every fierce kiss, remembered itself in the touch of that instant. Every night and every morning. Every moment of pleasure or quiet contemplation.

The laughter had finally stopped. It became silent.

"I love you Lenala. I love you Ardri."

* * *

Continued in Chapter 4


	4. Serenity

Serenity

* * *

Lenala held her father's head up in her lap while her mother finally acquiesced to this poor, broken man's last wish. Mother was sobbing as she gently poured the contents of the glass phial into his waiting mouth.

They would both remember for the rest of their lives how he perked up in those lingering moments as the poison came to work. A smile adorned his face while his daughter and wife sat with him in his moment. He looked as if he had somehow won even when his breathing finally shuddered to a stop.

The next minutes afterward were the ultimate test of an Aes Sedai's serenity. Losing a warder had not been as hard.

* * *

Continued in Chapter 5


	5. Repose

Repose

* * *

The town was barely beginning to heal when the two black coated men finally appeared. Dour people, remembering the last black coat, dropped their tools and hurried for cover amid the wrecked buildings. A black coat killed everyone who died that day and the whole town knew it.

Lenala went out to meet them. She stared them down, refusing to stand lower than these swaggering, proud, exceptionally dangerous men.

"A witch," the first man said, a Kandori with bells in his hair. "Stand aside witch, our business here is not with you."

"I represent the town," Lenala said, leveling her chin and narrowing her eyes, "if you would remain here, you speak to me."

"Hmm," the second Asha'man gave a leery smile, but said nothing. He also had the look of a borderlander, but wore no style to signify his roots.

"I don't see how you could stop us if we chose to walk on past," the Kandori said. His arrogance was palpable.

"That would be for you to try," Lenala responded. As exhausted as she felt, the man's attempt to ruffle her simply did not penetrate her habitual serenity. "What business have you here? Perhaps we can help each other."

"Doubtful," the Kandori said. "We heard rumors in Baerlon that a channeling man came north toward this village and other rumors of a fight. From the look of things, it seems no lie. I would recognize the work of _saidin_ anywhere. This channeling man is a deserter from our ranks and we have come to take him back."

"There is no deserter here," Lenala told them.

The Kandori appraised her archly, as if suspecting some deceit.

Lenala held up her hands, "The Oath binds my words. The one who caused this destruction is gone now."

"We have been instructed to bring his body back to hang in our Traitor's Tree," the Kandori told her.

"His body is not in my hands," Lenala returned. "I fear I cannot give that to you."

"And do you know where he has gone?" the man prompted.

"Onward," Lenala exclaimed shortly. "Who can say what the Creator sees for him."

The Kandori did not seem at all satisfied, but did not seem to find any way to argue with her words. Finally, as if releasing a breath, he said, "We have no quarrel. We will continue north."

"May the Light guide your way," Lenala tipped her head slightly in respect.

The two Asha'man departed without a backward glance at the lone Aes Sedai.

Much later, when she finally had a moment away from overseeing the reconstruction of the village, Lenala visited the plain grave marker she and her mother had installed the day before. Hoften lay nearby in a similar grave.

"May you rest peacefully where you lie and walk in the Creator's hand," she told her father. She touched the undecorated wooden marker and said in afterthought, "I know you never deserted us."

The End

* * *

I know this isn't the sort of story people usually prefer, but if you read it and got something out of it, I'm pleased. I needed to write something that came to an end.

viggen (c) 3-2-09


End file.
